


L-Words

by nightbirdrises



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2014-09-12
Packaged: 2018-02-17 03:11:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2294651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightbirdrises/pseuds/nightbirdrises
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt and Blaine are both Skanks at McKinley - they are known to meet up frequently, although they deny having any attraction to each other beyond that of the sexual kind. It just takes a pair of glasses to change things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	L-Words

**Author's Note:**

> [This gif](http://31.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mc6gdhFmRz1r4gxc3o2_500.gif) is important. Originally posted to [tumblr](http://princehummel.tumblr.com/post/93663335391)

Just because he hasn’t had sex with anyone but Blaine in almost a year doesn’t mean he’s in relationship. Just because he’s only ever had sex with someone else twice, his first time and his second, doesn’t mean he’s in a relationship, either. It just means that he and Blaine have the best fucking sex in Ohio - so of course he’d keep on doing it.

Quinn likes to tease them, but Kurt allows it from her most of the time. She’s the closest friend they have in the zoo that is McKinley, so she has certain privileges that no one else does. The other Skanks have either graduated or dropped out, so the three of them are all that’s left of the group; in only a few months, it’ll just be Blaine.

Since Kurt plans to move to New York City as soon as possible after graduation, they’ve been making the most of their remaining time together (but not  _together_  together, because that is absolutely not for them). If that means that a few rumors start circulating about them - normally a rare occurrence given the fact that hardly anyone ever pays attention to their group - then Kurt can deal with that. He can even play along if he’s in the mood. It’s not like it’s going to matter after the moment he graduates.

"Where’ve you been?"

Kurt rolls his eyes as he ducks under a metal bar to reach their space underneath the bleachers. “Is it any of your business?”

"No, but now we can’t get off before Quinn shows up." Blaine’s lying on the ratty old couch, facing away from Kurt; a tendril of cigarette smoke curls into the air above him. He has a hand placed obscenely over his crotch, as if he’d been rubbing himself before Kurt arrived. Actually, Kurt’s pretty sure that’s exactly what he’d been doing. "Thought I could count on you."

Kurt drops his drawstring bag on the floor - inside are his notebook, some pencils (most of them broken), and a few condom packets. He knows that Blaine has the lube somewhere; he always does.

"You’re a big boy now, Blaine," Kurt says, leaning his elbows on the back of the couch. "You’re capable of getting yourself off."

Blaine takes the cigarette out of his mouth and puffs smoke at Kurt, who wrinkles his nose. “That’s no fun.”

"That’s life." Kurt takes the cigarette and ignores Blaine’s whine as he tosses it to the concrete and stamps it out. "What happened to quitting?"

"Not everyone can have your iron willpower, you know."

"Yeah? I don’t want your mouth anywhere near me if you’re still doing this shit, Anderson. Does that motivate you?"

"Okay, okay," Blaine mutters, sitting up and scooting back so he’s propped against the arm of the couch. "I’ll give it another shot. Prick."

"You always have such charming pet names for me."

"I’m sorry, smart-ass. Is that better?"

"Quit it lovebirds, I can hear you squawking from the field," Quinn says as she walks in. "You both get in such  _moods_  when you’re frustrated and horny.”

"So? You’re a bitch 24/7," Kurt shoots back at her. She shrugs, smirking.

"I am what I am. But what I am not is someone who can’t go a day without fucking a completely platonic friend." She lets sarcasm drip into the last three words; Kurt narrows his eyes. "Oh, put the claws away. I’m just making an observation."

"Well, you couldn’t be more wrong." Kurt looks at Blaine, who’s back to staring up at the underside of the bleachers. "We fuck. That’s it. I don’t see what’s so difficult to understand about that."

"Yeah, just save the monologue, Kurt. I’ve heard it before."

"Tell us about Puck," Blaine says casually, interrupting the conversation. "Saw you talking to him in the hallway."

"Puck is nothing," Quinn says, scoffing. "No benefits, nothing. One fucked-up try with him is enough for me."

"Oh, come on. You don’t even want to tease him a little bit?" Blaine turns to better face Quinn, his expression deceptively innocent. "You know. Payback. We both know how much you like teasing guys, you’ve tried it on us before."

"When have I ever done that?"

"Apparently we seem perfectly straight to you when you’re drunk," Kurt points out. "Or maybe you have a secret thing for this kind of threesome. I’ll admit, it would be hot, aesthetically speaking." Quinn makes a face.

"Neither of you are my type."

"Your type is ‘guys that get tipsy cheerleaders pregnant,’" Blaine says, as if presenting an answer to a trivia question on some game show. "Yes or no?"

"Fuck off, at least I’m not  _in love_  with him,” she says, pointedly glancing between the two boys. Blaine rolls his eyes and Kurt crosses his arms. Clearly, they aren’t getting anywhere with their dear friend, and Kurt’s tempted to ditch her in favor of spending the quality time with Blaine that he’d missed out on.

"Whatever, let’s go."

Apparently Blaine has the same idea.

"Excuse me?" Quinn says, raising an eyebrow as Blaine picks himself up off the couch and Kurt bends down to grab his bag, well aware of Blaine’s eyes on his ass (it was his intention, after all). 

"We’re leaving," Kurt says promptly, looking to Blaine for confirmation.

"You’re going to ditch class to fuck."

"Uh, yeah," Blaine says, "missing English once won’t ruin our chances of graduation. I still have a whole year, anyway."

"And I’m not stupid enough to fall too far behind," Kurt says before Quinn can turn to him. "Relax."

"Any sane person would guess that you’re trying to flunk senior year so you can stick around for him," Quinn calls as they duck out from beneath the bleachers, sharing an exasperated look.

"You’d think she wouldn’t go along with all the rumors," Kurt mutters, a half-step in front of Blaine as they head towards the parking lot, careful to keep an eye out for teachers that might make things complicated. "God knows she doesn’t care about any of the ones about  _her_.”

"She’s just pissed because she can’t fuck anyone without getting caught in some kind of drama," Blaine says. "Can we—"

"We’re  _not_  taking your motorcycle, that thing is a death trap and you won’t take it in to get that rattling sound fixed.”

"I can’t afford that, which is stupid because you’re the son of a mechanic and I think I should get a serious discount for all the times I’ve driven you crazy."

"Oh, you drive me crazy, alright."

"Can we at least fuck in your car this time?" Blaine asks, almost pleading. "There’s so much room and it would be so hot, Kurt."

"Once again, no," Kurt says. He unlocks it and motions for Blaine to get into the passenger seat as he gets behind the wheel. "We’re not defiling her under any circumstances."

"Your car is more important to you than me," Blaine says, shutting the door just before Kurt turns the key in the ignition. "I’m hurt."

"Poor you. Your place or mine?"

"Mine, there’s less of a chance of  _someone’s_  stepbrother walking in unannounced because he’s sick and you, what, have the best-smelling tissues?”

"Will you shut up about the tissues?"

"Only if you admit that you liked that I smelled like lavender after we cleaned up that day."

"So what if I did? It’s an appealing scent. Very calming. Fuck off," Kurt groans when Blaine laughs, loud and full. It’s a nice laugh, Kurt can’t help but think. "Put your damn seat belt on."

Thankfully, Blaine does what he asks, and the next few minutes are ones of quietly enjoying each other’s company. They’re good friends, after all, and Kurt’s glad that he gets that along with the fantastic sex. However, Blaine’s quiet for too long, and Kurt glances over only to see him blinking rapidly and rubbing at his eyes.

"Are you crying?"

"No," Blaine says, slightly panicked. "Don’t look at me like that, I’m not. There’s something in my eye."

"That’s the oldest excuse in the book—" Blaine stops him with a red-eyed glare and Kurt grins. "Well, we’re here. I guess I’ll just have to wait for you to sort out your not-crying problem."

"Yeah, yeah," Blaine says as he gets out of the car, still rubbing at his eyes. Kurt debates telling him that he’s just making it worse, but he decides not to as Blaine probably won’t listen. Not to mention he’s already inside, and Kurt’s hurrying after him; they part ways quickly, with Kurt heading to Blaine’s bedroom and Blaine off to the bathroom, swearing under his breath.

Kurt lounges on Blaine’s bed, looking around the room. He hasn’t really had a chance to get a good look at his room - they’re usually pretty distracted at this point. Now, Kurt sees that he has some trophies on a shelf, and a box of what looks to be vintage records. He vaguely wonders if Blaine has a record player, as well.

He also notices that Blaine’s room is very muted, warm, and comfortable. It occurs to Kurt that he doesn’t know much about Blaine before he transferred to McKinley, all blue-streaked and eyebrow-pierced and strangely quiet about his previous school. He fell into the Skanks easily enough (most of the other students were wary around him) and that was that. All Kurt knows is that his piercings looked newer than Blaine said they were when they met, as if he’d only gotten done them that summer.

Not that it matters - in just a few months he’ll be gone, and he has no idea if he’ll ever see Blaine again after that. It shouldn’t ache as much as it does to think about that possibility, but Kurt just chalks it up to spending an excessive amount of time with his friend. It’s perfectly reasonable to feel  _wrong_  in leaving him here and going to New York without him. And if he doesn’t feel quite like that about Quinn, well, that’s normal too. Right?

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck." 

Kurt jumps at Blaine’s voice, sitting up too quickly like he’s doing something that he wants to keep hidden. Ridiculous. “What’s wrong? Did your ego get in your eyes?”

"Shut up," Blaine mumbles, going to a desk in the corner that Kurt hadn’t spotted before and rummaging through one of its drawers. He’s squinting at the contents, as if he can’t see them clearly. "I just ordered…"

"Blaine?"

"Nothing," Blaine says. "Uh, eye drops. Looking for eye drops, they get sensitive sometimes so I have a prescription."

"Okay…" Kurt frowns, getting onto his knees and craning his neck in an attempt to see inside the drawer that Blaine’s searching through. "Do you need help?"

"No, it’s fine. Shit. I’m out."

"There might be some at my place, I know Carole has eye trouble sometimes." Blaine ignores him, moving to the nightstand and opening the drawer.

"Don’t fucking laugh, alright?" he says, pulling a small case out.

"What?"

"I lied," Blaine tells him gruffly, turning away. Kurt instantly starts thinking of all the things Blaine could have lied to him about, but before he can speak, Blaine continues, "I didn’t run out of eye drops, I ran out of contacts."

"You—" Kurt sits back on his calves. "Okay, so you wear contacts. So what?"

"Take a wild guess." Blaine turns around, and Kurt’s eyes widen because,  _oh_ , he’s wearing glasses. Black-framed glasses with large lenses that are, honestly, pretty hipster-nerdy, but.

He looks really good in glasses.

"Oh," is all Kurt can say, but it’s obviously not the right thing to say as Blaine narrows his eyes at him.

"I told you not to laugh."

"I’m not laughing," Kurt says indignantly - Blaine should know when he finds something funny, they’ve known each other long enough by now.

"But they’re stupid, right?" Blaine asks, subconsciously pushing them back up his nose and, the next second, looking like he might set something on fire because he did that. "Fuck, there are so many reasons I hate wearing these—"

"I like them."

Blaine stares at him. “No, you don’t. You’re just trying to make me feel better, you don’t have to baby me like that.”

"I’m being serious," Kurt says. He shuffles to the edge of the bed so he’s kneeling right in front of Blaine, nearly at eye level with him. "You look hot, and… well, you know."

"I don’t know, actually."

It breaks all of his rules. It breaks all of  _their_  rules, unspoken but set like iron bars in the framework of their friendship. Except now, after getting just a glimpse into one of the cracks in Blaine’s exterior and finding that he just might want to keep looking (and learning, and other L-words he can’t think about just yet), Kurt feels an overwhelming need to kiss him, so he does.

It’s not like they’ve never kissed; it’s more like they’ve never kissed like this, driven not by heat but by something else. Probably one of those other stupid L-words. It sure as hell isn’t lust; that’s nothing new - or secret - between them.

"You gonna tell me?" Blaine asks (or rather, mumbles), his lips moving against Kurt’s. "Hot and what? Sexy?"

"Cute," Kurt admits, straightening Blaine’s glasses as he pulls away. A small smile appears on Blaine’s lips, his eyes darting away sheepishly for a moment.

"You’ve never called me cute before," he says. Clearing his throat, he adds, "You must be getting soft, Hummel."

It’s an out. Kurt could argue that he’s just as tough-skinned as ever and pull Blaine onto the bed with him, kiss him in the way they’re used to until they inevitably end up fucking one way or another, the world’s balance restored to normal as they forget this little moment. It’s an out that could save both of their asses, considering the near-future circumstances.

He doesn’t take it.

"Maybe you’ve been making me soft," he tells Blaine, who furrows his brows. It makes him look even more adorable with those glasses on, but it’s also frustrating. Kurt takes a breath, mumbles, "Fuck, Blaine, don’t make me say it out loud just because you’re as completely clueless as ever."

"Who says I’m clueless?" Blaine raises an eyebrow, then, and something shifts in his gaze. "Say it."

"I think I could fall in love with you," Kurt blurts out; it’s not  _exactly_  what he meant to say, but his instinct for self-preservation insists that he keep an exit path available, travel down a road that he can easily backtrack on.  _I could, but I’m not, and I won’t._  It’s not quite honest, but it’s safe.

"Huh." Blaine visibly considers Kurt’s words, and Kurt can’t deny that there’s a bit of nervousness bubbling up despite his emotional precautions. Why did he have to use that particular L-word? He could easily have just said something about maybe liking him. Too late now. "That’s weird."

Kurt goes to cross his arms but Blaine stops him, hands gentle on his wrists.

"That’s weird because I think I already have fallen in love with  _you_ ,” he finishes, quiet. Kurt blinks, shocked. “But if you’re not there yet—”

"I am!" Kurt says, quickly and earnestly - more earnest than he thought he’d be the first time someone admitted he loved him, maybe because some part of him is still stuck in fairytale dreams. It might not be so bad to let himself indulge in a bit of that again. "Forget what I said before, it’s bullshit. I didn’t think…"

"What, you didn’t think I would say that I love you?" Blaine says wryly, though he looks as nervous as Kurt feels (felt) about saying it. "Who’s the clueless one now?"

Kurt breaks his wrists free of Blaine’s loose grip and grabs his hands as he falls back, pulling Blaine on top of him and laughing when they bounce on the mattress, nearly causing Blaine’s glasses to fall off. “Whatever, I’m telling you right now that I fucking love you, maybe I just figured it out because of your stupidly cute nerd glasses but that doesn’t make it any less true.”

"They’re not  _nerd_  glasses, you—” Kurt interrupts him with a kiss, another of those L-word-charged ones that he’s starting to really enjoy. Love, lust, like, and maybe he’s a capital-L Loser for imagining that this could possibly go anywhere beyond the bedroom, but screw it, he’s imagining it, and it looks perfect.

There’s still the matter of Quinn, who will pull the I-Told-You-So card until the end of time if she finds out; there’s still the rumor mill, which will either find this of no importance or of such importance that they won’t find any peace; there’s still New York and not being with him, and that’s the worst part. There’s still fear (that this isn’t as real as it seems, that it’ll ruin their friendship), uncertainty (caused by the plain fact that he still has so much to learn about Blaine), and the kind of vulnerability that Kurt isn’t used to.

But Blaine loves him - he’ll have to ask, at some point, when Blaine figured it out for himself - and he finds himself loving back more easily than probably  _anyone_  would have expected, himself included. Strange, really, what a simple pair of glasses can ignite in the right situation.

"So, now that we’ve made all of Quinn’s dreams come true," Kurt starts; Blaine laughs, his face tucked into the crook of Kurt’s neck, "I want to ask a favor of you, and you’re not allowed to laugh."

"Sure, anything. Can’t promise I won’t laugh, though, not if you also have a pair of nerd glasses. I bet they’re pink so they match your hair."

"Jerk."

Blaine props himself up and grins at him. “Seriously though, what is it?”

After a moment’s indecision, Kurt lets go of everything telling him that it’s ridiculous and says, in a whisper, “Make love to me.”

It takes a too-long second for Blaine to register what he’s asking of him, and Kurt’s about to turn around and tell him to forget it and just fuck him instead, he’s obviously letting the moment get the better of him - but Blaine’s expression goes soft and he nods. “I can do that.” He kisses Kurt, briefly, then reaches for his glasses. “Let me just put these away.” _  
_

"Oh, no you don’t." Blaine gives him a questioning look. "I said make love to me, that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to do it with those very hot, very cute glasses on."

"I should have known you had a thing for nerdy guys. It’s so typical of the high school badass, I should have seen this coming." Kurt rolls his eyes.

"Just one nerd, I think, and he just hides it under some ripped clothing and bright hair dye."

"So… you have a thing for yourself."

"Just get your fingers in me already," Kurt groans, smacking Blaine’s shoulder. "Or whatever your idea of making love starts off with as long as it involves you shutting up."

"I love you too, Kurt," Blaine says fondly, sliding down Kurt’s body to brush his lips over the strip of skin showing between the hem of his shirt and his waistband.

As it turns out, glasses don’t stay on easily during sex - not that it matters. Kurt assures Blaine that he’s just as cute and hot without them, tells him he loves him (with a big fucking capital L), and the world doesn’t collapse. Maybe it will later, but that’ll be dealt with when it comes.

After all, Kurt Hummel kind of likes being in love. He’d like to hang on to it, immerse himself in it, for as long as he possibly can.


End file.
